


a knock at the window

by fabr4y (firelrd)



Series: i thought you'd never ask [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Gen, Internalized Homophobia, quinn fabray needs a good parental figure, russell fabray is a disgusting homophobe and i hate him, so does holly holliday, that figure is holly holliday, this is quinn centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23777107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firelrd/pseuds/fabr4y
Summary: Quinn Fabray gets a text, and her father sees it first.
Relationships: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Series: i thought you'd never ask [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1712890
Comments: 6
Kudos: 155





	a knock at the window

**Author's Note:**

> hi. stan holly holliday.

“What is this?”

Quinn stopped moving, halting her search for her phone, which she had thought was in her school bag. It wasn’t.

It was in her father’s hands.

“Um, my phone?” she responded, a nervous half smile twitching across her features. He clenched his fist, and she knew she was fucked. He tossed the phone at her, and it bounced off of her chest and onto the ground.

“Explain that message to me. Right now.” She shakily bent down and picked up the phone. She turned it on, and sure enough, she had forgotten to turn off her notifications. There was a text from Santana staring back up at her.

**so now that ur finally realizing how much of a lesbian u are, when are u gonna admit ur in love with berry?**

Fuck.

“Dad, I-”

“Is it true? Don’t lie to me, Quinn.”

She hesitated. Her breath got caught in her throat and she could barely whisper the word, “Yes,” before Russell Fabray’s fist slammed into her jaw. The force of the blow sent her staggering back, and she cried out from the sharp pain that shot up the side of her face. Quinn stumbled and fell onto the floor, eyes darting frantically around the room as she tried to register what was happening. Then her father was towering over her with a look of such disgust in his eyes, and Quinn knew. This was it.

“How _dare_ you?” His palm connected with her cheek and the sting of it instantly made her eyes water.

“Dad-”

The second time his fist came into contact with her face, it hit her in the mouth. She immediately tasted blood, felt the warmness of it between her lips. He grabbed her phone and threw it against the wall. Then he stepped on it for good measure, smirking a little when the screen crunched under his weight.

“You have twenty minutes. Pack your things. You can take your car, but that’s the last thing you will get from me.”

He straightened his tie, spun on his heel and left the room.

Quinn sat on the floor, frozen in shock. Her face throbbed from where she had been hit, and she could barely move her jaw. Bright red blood spilled out of her parted lips. She closed her eyes and took a deep, shaky breath before wiping her mouth off with her shirt and crawling over to her phone. She tried to turn it on, but it didn’t work. Shocker. Quinn guessed that was his intention, anyway.

She slowly, unsteadily got to her feet and looked in the mirror. A bruise was already blooming along the line of her jaw, and her cheek was branded with a bright red handprint. She felt tears spring to her eyes, but she knew she couldn’t break down just yet; she had to get out of the house first.

Robotically, Quinn filled up her duffle bag from cheerleading with as many clothes that would fit, her toothbrush, some shampoo, her laptop and the charger for it. Before she slung her school bag over her shoulder, she slipped on Sam’s letterman; he had left it there yesterday. He was over at Jesse’s in Akron, and she couldn’t call him for help.

She couldn’t call anyone for help.

Quinn supposed that didn’t matter much. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this, she didn’t want anyone to know what had just happened. It was her fault, anyway.

She should’ve just turned off her notifications.

She should’ve just kept her mouth shut and never talked to Santana about it. Or Brittany, or anyone else. Why did she tell people? Now they _knew_. Quinn felt sick to her stomach at the thought, which hadn’t happened since Sam had told her that she wasn’t wrong for how she felt.

He lied. Clearly.

Still, she pulled his jacket around herself tighter and lifted the duffle bag.

This was it.

She trudged out of her room and started down the stairs. Judy and Russell Fabray stood near the front door, stone-faced. Russell stared her down, and Judy refused to meet her eyes. This was it. She turned the knob on the door and it swung open, then she stepped out of the house. She turned to see Judy staring at her with tears streaming down her face just before Russell slammed the door.

The lock clicked.

Quinn’s knees buckled and she nearly fell onto the pavement in front of the house, but she managed to stay upright as she fished her car keys from her pocket and stumbled her way into the red bug. Jamming the keys in the ignition, she quickly shifted into gear and sped off of the driveway. She had to get out of there.

She quickly remembered she had nowhere to go.

That thought seemed to numb her emotions. She had nowhere to go; she could just drive forever and ever and never come back to this godforsaken town. As she thought this, though, her car pulled into the parking lot of William McKinley High School. She had driven there without realizing; she had been so spaced out that pure muscle memory had taken over and gotten her here.

The moment Quinn put the car in park, she started crying. And once she started, she couldn’t stop. She didn’t have a home anymore. She’d probably never see her mother or her sister again.

Remembering the look on her mother’s face just before the door slammed made her cry harder, the sobs wracking her body and making her shake uncontrollably. Quinn didn’t think she’d ever stop crying. She eventually fell asleep curled up in her backseat,

Sam’s letterman draped over her body to keep her warm.

It was seven o’clock on Sunday morning when a knock on the car window woke Quinn up.

She blinked a few times, her eyes struggling to adjust to the rising sun, then looked up to see Holly Holliday staring back at her with a concerned look in her eye and a small frown on her lips.

Quinn sat up, despite her muscles aching in protest, and rolled down the window the slightest bit.

“Yes?” she croaked out, her voice way smaller than she intended.

“You okay, kid? Wanna open the door for me?” Quinn didn’t move, neither did Holly. Finally, Quinn relented with a sigh and the doors unlocked with a resounding click. Holly opened the door and slid into the backseat beside Quinn, who ducked her head to try and hide her battered face. It didn’t work.

“Holy shit, Quinn, what happened?” Holly asked quietly, reaching out to lightly graze her fingertips over the greenish-purple bruise on Quinn’s jaw. She flinched at the touch, and Holly pulled her hand back instantly, instead moving to place it on Quinn’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I want to help you, Q. Who did this to you?”

Quinn felt the familiar sting of tears as she slowly turned to meet Holly’s worried stare. She knew the moment Holly saw the giant split in Quinn’s lip; the older woman’s jaw clenched and hardened, her grip on Quinn’s shoulder reflexively tightening.

“Who did it? Was it Puckerman? Because I swear to God, I’ll-”

“What? No! No. It wasn’t Puck,” Quinn replied quickly, shaking her head. She cast her gaze down to her shoes in shame. “It was… it was my dad.”

Holly sucked in a sharp breath. “Fuck,” she muttered. “Is that why you’re sleeping in your car?”

“Yeah.” Quinn sniffled. “He, uh, he kicked me out. Broke my phone, so I couldn’t call anyone.”

“Jesus, Quinn, I’m so sorry,” Holly whispered, pulling Quinn into her side for a somewhat awkward hug. Quinn leaned into it regardless, and her shoulders shook; she was crying again. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna figure this out, alright? Me and you. I got you.” Both of her arms were around Quinn now, who was sobbing uncontrollably into Holly’s shoulder. They stayed like that for a while, huddled together in Quinn’s cramped backseat, before Quinn spoke again.

“What are you even doing here?” she rasped, then winced. “Sorry. That sounded meaner than it was supposed to.” Holly chuckled.

“I have a long-term sub gig lined up. Nelson’s chemistry class; she’s on maternity leave. I start Monday, but I came up here today to get ahead of the game.”

“Oh. Sorry for, like, ruining your plans.” Holly pulled away from the hug to meet Quinn’s eyes. She wiped a stray tear from the girl’s cheek.

“Are you kidding? I don’t give a shit. What matters now is that you’re gonna be okay. Alright?” Quinn nodded; she didn’t know what to say. No adult had ever shown this much empathy towards her, ever. “So, let’s head to my place so we can clean up your face. Don’t want that cut on your lip to get infected.”

“Okay, yeah,” Quinn stuttered, “uh, thanks. Thank you.” Holly smiled at her.

“It’s no problem at all, kiddo. I wanna help.” She squeezed Quinn’s shoulder once more before exiting the car and stretching herself out. “You good to drive?” Quinn nodded. “Okay. Just follow me, then. It’s not too far from here.”

Just under ten minutes later, Quinn was pulling into a parking spot in front of a small apartment complex, right beside Holly Holliday. The walk up to the second floor was silent, and Holly only spoke when she unlocked the door and opened it.

“Welcome to the humble abode.”

The apartment was quaint, and devoid of everything except furniture and a TV. There were no pictures on the walls, no decorations of any kind except for one painting that was hung above the couch. It was a landscape; a snowy mountain range with a crystalline stream flowing between the peaks, the sun rising over the tallest summit. Small wooden cabins littered the slopes, windows emitting a soft yellow glow. The living room of the apartment was dimly lit with a small lamp, and it broke Quinn’s heart when her first thought was that she already felt more at home here than she ever had in the Fabray house.

“You can sit wherever, I’ll go get some stuff to clean you up,” Holly said with a small smile, and Quinn realized she had just been standing in the doorway, taking everything in. She made her way over to the couch and took a seat. It was comfortable; she felt herself immediately relax into the cushions. Holly reappeared from the kitchen and plopped down next to Quinn, then spread out the contents of a first-aid kit on the coffee table in front of her. She handed Quinn an ice pack to hold against the sickening bruise on her jaw.

Silence fell over the two of them once more as Holly inspected the rest of Quinn’s face and body for any signs of other injury. Her brow furrowed in focus as she did so, and Quinn could see the anger in her eyes. She’d seen that anger last night; it was comforting now to know that it wasn’t directed at her. Holly began cleaning Quinn’s split lip, gently dabbing it with a damp paper towel. Once she was done, she cleared her throat.

“So, obviously I wanna know what exactly went down, but I’m not gonna make you talk about it right now. You should get some sleep first. The bedroom is to the left down that hall; I’ll just chill here until you wake up and then we can chat if you want.”

Quinn blinked slowly. “You’re… letting me sleep in your bed?” Holly shrugged.

“I mean, I’m not using it right now. This place technically has two bedrooms but I’m not using the other one, so there’s no bed in it at the moment. You can nap on the couch if you want, but I figured you’d prefer a mattress after you spent the night in your car.” The thought of Quinn sleeping in her car made the crease in Holly’s brow reappear.

Quinn smiled gratefully at her. “Thanks, Miss Holliday. Really. You didn’t have to do this.” Holly laughed and squeezed Quinn’s shoulder.

“Dude, you can call me Holly. I think we’re at that point now.” Quinn’s smile widened as she nodded.

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Holly.” Quinn let out a perfectly-timed yawn, which made both of them dissolve into laughter.

“Go get some sleep, kid. You need it.” Quinn gave Holly one last grin before rising off of the couch and heading into the bedroom. Holly had good taste in pillows; the one under her head felt just like the one she used to own. Tears sprang to her eyes for the third time that day, but she refused to let them fall. Instead, she snuggled deeper under the blankets and let out a long sigh.

Surprisingly, she slept soundly.

When Quinn woke up, she immediately panicked at her surroundings before remembering where she was. Then she remembered _why_ she was where she was, and her heart sank to her stomach. Gone were her dreams of a certain short Jewish brunette with the voice of an angel; reality had set in. She shook her head to rid herself of overwhelming emotion, blinked quickly to adjust her eyes to the mid-afternoon sunlight seeping through the open blinds, then threw the covers off of her body. She stood and stretched out her limbs before trudging down the hall and into the living room. Holly was lying across the length of the couch, mindlessly flipping through channels on the TV. When she spotted Quinn, she sat up and threw her legs onto the coffee table instead, then patted the spot next to her in invitation. Quinn immediately took it.

“What’re you watching?”

“Literally nothing,” Holly scoffed, “since cable decided to just run the same three shitty shows every hour.” Quinn chuckled. “You got a specific channel you like?” Quinn shook her head.

“I don’t watch much TV. My dad usually just had FOX News playing twenty-four-seven.” Holly rolled her eyes instantly at that.

“Dumbass.” They fell into silence for a while as Holly kept sifting through the channels, but after she came across FRIENDS for the third time, she said, “Speaking of your dad… do you wanna tell me what happened?”

Quinn held her breath for a long moment, then released it shakily. “No,” she whispered, “because it’s my fault.”

Holly turned off the TV.

She turned to face Quinn fully.

“Quinn, whatever happened, I can guarantee you it wasn’t your fault. I need you to know that.”

“It _is_ , though!” she cried, “I was so _stupid_ when I told Santana, or Sam, or anyone. And I was so _fucking stupid_ for forgetting to turn my notifications off. It’s all my fault. I’m the one who… who…” she trailed off, and buried her face in her hands. She felt Holly place her hand lightly on her back, and a single sob ripped through her throat, shaking her shoulders involuntarily.

“I like girls. And I told people about it. I wasn’t supposed to do that. It’s my fault.” She heard Holly gasp quietly, and she immediately flinched, eyes squeezing shut behind her hands.

“Quinn. Look at me.”

Quinn slowly opened her eyes and lowered her hands, and found Holly staring back at her, eyes wide and full of understanding.

“Listen to me. It is _not_ your fault that your father did this to you. It never was, and it never will be. You don’t deserve this. You’re not wrong, or bad, or unworthy because of who you love. End of story. You are a beautiful, strong young woman and any girl would be lucky to have you. Your dad is a _fucking piece of shit._ In fact, he doesn’t even deserve to be called your dad. What’s his name?”

Quinn was silent for a while, staring open-mouthed at Holly, before she realized she needed to respond. “Russell. It’s Russell.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s an ugly ass name.” Quinn released a surprisingly loud laugh, and it sounded rough between her crying, but it made Holly smile. “Russell is a fucking piece of shit. He’s an ignorant, gross little man who doesn’t know how good he had it for having you as a daughter.” Quinn nodded, but she still didn’t feel entirely convinced.

“Say it,” Holly said.

“What?”

“Say it. Say ‘Russell is a fucking piece of shit.’”

Quinn looked at her incredulously, and she stared back expectantly.

“We can sit here all day if we have to.”

There was about five seconds more of silence before Quinn spoke.

“Russell is a fucking piece of shit,” she whispered.

“Oh, please, you can do better than that. Give it a little gusto.”

“Russell is a fucking piece of shit,” Quinn repeated, this time slightly louder.

Holly rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “C’mon, say it like you mean it, dude!”

 _“Russell is a fucking piece of shit!”_ Quinn shouted, and the echo of it bounced off the walls of the apartment. She grinned at Holly. Her tears were gone. “Better?” Holly laughed loudly.

“Hell yeah it was! That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” She lifted both of her hands for a double high-five, which Quinn indulged. She couldn’t stop smiling.

“Thanks, Holly.”

“My pleasure, kiddo. Now, what do you like on your pizza?”

An hour later, they were sitting on the same couch, digging into a large pepperoni pizza and watching Silence of the Lambs. Holly had insisted on renting it after Quinn mentioned that it was her favorite.

“So-”

“Shh, this is a good part,” Quinn whispered harshly, eyes glued to the television. Holly guffawed.

“Okay, but I have a question. And you’ve seen this movie, like, a million times.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “What’s your question?”

“Since you mentioned her earlier... are you and Santana an item? Because I really thought she would be with Brittany Pierce by now. I mean, I sang Stevie Nicks with them, and you saw that performance.”

Quinn laughed. “No, no. I’m definitely not with Santana. Those two are sickening, really.” Holly grinned knowingly. “What?”

“Any other girls on your radar, then?” Quinn immediately blushed a deep crimson. “Oh, there totally is! Now you have to tell me.”

“I… I may or may not be in love with Rachel Berry.” Holly raised her eyebrows and made a noise of appraisal. “What?”

“Nothing. That just makes, like, a _lot_ of sense.” Quinn smacked her lightly on the arm.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re really not as subtle as you think you are. Now shut up, Clarisse is about to kill Buffalo Bill.”

Quinn sighed loudly, because she wanted to know exactly how obvious she was being, but she said nothing because she knew it could wait.

This was the best part of the movie, anyway.


End file.
